


oh, your kiss is the cure to a thousand lonely nights

by secretsarenotforfree



Category: Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, i stayed up until five am writing this, making up villains is a lot harder than it looks my dudes, the five plus one no one asked for, the things quarantine does to us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsarenotforfree/pseuds/secretsarenotforfree
Summary: “C’mon, I think we’re close.” He assures in his deep voice, hand closing on hers, and Tandy’s heart hurts for a moment at how much she loves this boy. She thinks it’s the most dangerous thing she’s ever done.or5 Times Tyrone Kisses Tandy & 1 Time She Kisses Him
Relationships: Tandy Bowen/Tyrone Johnson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	oh, your kiss is the cure to a thousand lonely nights

**Author's Note:**

> this idea started out at 'four cities tyrone kisses tandy in and one tandy kisses him' and it's mostly how it turned out. i wish i'd had enough in me to make some of the parts longer BUT they didn't ask to be, so what can i tell ya. tandy and tyrone are together, but maybe aren't super official in this. they've talked about each others feelings and act like they're together but never refer to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend because...stubborn kids, idk what to tell you. 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> title from 'in good trouble' by india.arie

Through a rather strange turn of events, two kids college aged but decidedly not in college ended up on the basement floor of a rather large university.

Tandy squints one honey brown eye at Tyrone’s goal and plucks at the tiny paper triangle, crowing a little in victory when it sails over, netting her a couple of points. The light from the decades old bulbs is vaguely staticky and throws an off beige glow over the near endless shelves and dark carpet. Every inhale treats them with the musty smell of old books and the muted non-sounds of a floor that most of the population upstairs have forgotten exists. Good for Tandy and Tyrone, always attempting, at least, to stay as under the radar as possible, but bad for those other kids, depending on how you look at it.

They’d stumbled onto this particular case of probably-evil-doer-y. Students at a local college were filling their on campus clinics with extremely low temperatures and near death like sleeps at a time that wasn’t finals week. It happened to correlate all too suspiciously with a professor’s pet project on converting the electric pulses in the brain to energy. The two of them were staking out the library, to stay after hours since it had seemed to be the one overlapping fact so far of the mysterious happenings.

Waiting for the place to empty out was taking longer than Tandy had initially thought, which was kind of pissing her off. It could be worse, though. At least Tyrone was here with her. Tyrone, her best friend, who some freaking how always made things better. And was looking entirely too good in a navy t-shirt that fit to every dip of his shoulders.

“Twenty three to nineteen. I feel like I should quit while I’m ahead.” His chuckle fills their little space like warmth under the blanket that the quiet has wrapped around them. Tandy’s stretched out foot, still ballerina straight and elegant from years ago of stretches on the wooden floor, just barely brushes his folded legs. If she concentrates, she thinks she can feel the warmth of him near her toes.

“I warned you, nerdboy. The years I did spend in school weren’t filled with a lot of concentrating.” She stretches her arms above her head, back shifting against the spines of books it would never even cross Tandy’s mind to read. Tyrone’s eyes follow the movement, interested and dark, at the arch of her spine. Of the way it presses her breasts up against the scoop of her light blue tank top, the velvet line of her chin as it tilts up. He’d always thought she was pretty. Cute, when they’d first met, and then spiky. Sexy, with those teasing, often filthy words she said like they were nothing, the way her ass looked in a pair of jeans, and how her smile sent sparks up in his blood.

Tyrone’s wrist rests against his propped up knee, his cheeks warming from the effort of not smiling at her snark. Yes, this is mostly serious, but they’re just killing time right now anyway. Letting himself get distracted by the other half of the divine pairing was a pleasure that, in moments like this, he absolutely refused to feel guilty about. “Just because I got mostly straight A’s doesn’t mean that I was exactly a saint.”

The blonde lets her elbows rest on the carpet in front of him, chin held up by them and a way too confident turn of the corner of her mouth. “Bullshit, Tyrone Johnson. What’s the worse thing you ever did on school property, take home a pen?”

A memory touches at his mind, nice to think on even if he’d left Evita with the old version of himself long ago, and Ty smiles with the private sort of smile that speaks to private times. “Evita and I had fun in the darkroom, once. That’s all that I’ll say about it.”

Tandy’s mouth dropped open, smacking his arm gently and ignoring his playful ‘ow’. The indignation was a little too dramatic, but it helped her cover up the tiny twinge of jealous she still felt over the girl in question. “Okay, well look at you! I’m a little less embarrassed being seen with you. Bet you’ll never do something like that again.” It was a statement, but less of it than it was a dare. She knew it and he knew it.

“Oh you wanna bet?”

“I wanna bet.”

“C’mere, then.” He crooks a finger at her and Tandy willingly leans forward, pulled by that soul strong tether between them both. She really is too damn attracted to him for someone who fancied herself a bit of a rockstar, when she was at her best. The curve of his bottom lip should not make her feel that much heat when she pictured it in her head, and neither should that easy confidence he got when he’s completely settled in the moment. 

Tyrone meets her mouth first, sensual lips and a hand at the back of her head, and she near melts into it. Anything he’d ask her to do, she’d do it, whenever he kissed her like this. Her arms loop around his neck with the easy hang of someone who’d done it many times, and Tyrone loses no time pulling the rest of her into his lap. She’s warm, like always, and tastes like heat and sweet linger of the Extra Watermelon she’d been chewing earlier to add to her ‘cover’. Her hips are heavy and feel too, too good on top of him, one hand sliding up to enjoy the low back of the tank top she was wearing. 

Tandy tugs on his ear with a sharp nail, and grins into the noise of half-hearted complaint he lets out afterwards. He can feel the near arrival of words on her lips, so close to his, until there’s a sharp, visceral drop in temperature. Half the lights go off at once, and the two of them are left blinking in a patch of darkness. The blonde automatically makes a little ball of light and lets out an aggrieved sigh, pulling back from Tyrone while still on his lap and frowning a little. “Can we find them and beat them sooner rather than later? I now have complaints to file against them. For ruining my makeout time.”

He’s still laughing a little when they pull themselves to their feet, smoke flickering at the ends almost as if they were entertained with him while they start the search for the coldest point of the basement. Tandy’s lips still buzz at his touch.

* * *

“Tell me exactly how this makes you look more like this guy's girlfriend?”

The words are whispered right into the arch of her neck but it takes longer than normal for them to register in her brain for a time when she was completely sober. Maybe, just _maybe_ , it had something to do with a certain master of space and time’s lips pursuing a very singular mission. Maybe, this mission had a little something to do with creating a good number of swiftly darkening hickies on the lightly tan skin of Tandy’s neck.

Normally, these physical marks of ownership weren’t really something that Tandy received. More often she was the one giving, and a little frustrated when they didn’t show up quite the way she wanted them to. This, was half for sneaking into an apartment building, and half an excuse to feel Tyrone’s weight on top of her. In any (let Tandy stress, _any_ ) way she can.

“He’s got a reputation for being, very possessive with his sidepieces.” She breathlessly exclaims, a small curse escaping under her breath.

She bruised like a honey colored peach, they’d known even before now, but the evidence bloomed all over her neck like a colorful warning to anyone interested. Tyrone kisses near each one afterwards, and fizzes tingle behind her eyes as she tries to blink and focus back on him. Tandy had gotten the bright idea for her last minute addition to her deception around the corner from the building in question, and it’s in a dark alcove that she fights to her breath back under control.

“Mmm. If you say so. The least I can do is do my part.”

Pulling back, Tyrone lowers his hold so her feet touch the floor again, brushing hands over her short loose curls to cup her face. “Get that blush under control. And go get em.” Damn him for being so good that. At making her weak in the knees, at being so in control about it. Being a hero looked good on him, but then it always had. Tandy had seen it from the moment she’d met him.

Cheeks turning a deeper shade of red, she shoves him a little before tugging on the hem of her dress and strutting out of the shadows like she owned them. In the case of the ones that smoked behind her, a little protection in the natural shade of the night, Tandy basically did.

* * *

He hated this.

He hated this for him, and them, and her. Hated that for all you _do_ , for all the blood and sweat and tears and sheer _trying_ , you can’t win them all. And the ones you lost cut like you’ve never won a single one to begin with.

The junkyard had been Tyrone’s idea, a place where everyone was broken down and due to be recycled anyway, a tense discussion before a quick cloak that dropped them in the middle of rusty fenders. For a second Tandy had been silent, her lungs working harder in an almost imperceptible rise before light floods the area around them, her palms filled with daggers. Tyrone steps back, hands in his pockets, giving her space to work, and doesn’t flinch at her rough scream. Doesn’t flinch when she slices the worn metal to too sharp pieces and lets out her anger at something that was actually capable of taking it.

He understood her frustration. And shared it, but despite his anger and that regret was the knowledge that they’d done all they’d could. By the time they’d even heard of the situation it had been too late, and they couldn’t have known that the person would already be dead. They weren’t entirely innocent, no, but they’d been working to get to a better place. And in digging for more information, they’d met his kid, with his ex wife, and they were too young to lose their dad like this. Even if the circumstances had begun through his own doing.

When she’s done, when she’s slumped shouldered and crying quietly, a state Tandy rarely let anyone see, that Tyrone wraps himself around her again. She sags into him, worn out and defeated as they shadow travel to the hotel room they were ‘borrowing’ for the night, and he holds her like she’s something precious and, somehow, vastly too breakable. His lips press into the crown of her head and he couldn’t imagine how anyone ever got through _this_ alone. Tyrone felt a great wave of sorrow for the superheroes he saw in the media who seemed to always be alone. This life could be a great burden, at the end of the day. He was lucky not to go through it alone, leaning into the grounding graze of her fingertips at the back of his neck.

* * *

Her heart is threatening to pound out of her chest.

They’d gotten too close - too brazen as they snuck deeper into the maze of rooms in the concert hall, following a socialite who moonlit as an amputator of decidedly unwilling participants. It obviously had no effect on her great powers of sneaking into places they shouldn’t that Tandy’s eyes had often strayed from in front of them to the way that the tux he had on fit around his hips. That inwardly she very, very much appreciated the way his skin contrasted with the white shirt he had on. And nothing, of course, had distracted Tyrone from their mission tonight. Especially not the little bow in her hair tying the sides of her shoulder brushing hair back made him want to untie it with his teeth. Or how the swoop of her collarbone against the shoulder baring dress made his mouth water, and no one should be allowed to look that good in white. It’s like the color was made for her, all contrast and clean lines and the personality of hers shining through, all glare and fierce. 

The heels she’s got on tonight put her closer to his height than normal, and it’s that that helps her spot the person they were trying to observing coming down the hallway towards them. Panicking at trying to think of an excuse to be this far from the main activities, she was just whispering that the guy was coming when Tyrone did the thinking for her. Big hands pull at her waist and suddenly he’s kissing her, urgency and assurance all in the same breath. She’s not a fool - this is always a good cover, everyone knows - and throws herself into it, one leg hitched on his hip, a small moan leaking from her lips.

She’s being careful with him, though, and it’s because only a few days ago Tyrone had gotten his neck sliced by a too directed throwing knife. The pain still lances down the side of his shoulder and not for the first time, she wishes she could figure out how to use her power to heal Tyrone if he needed her. It’s next on her list of things to try to figure out with her powers, but for now, if he gets hurt tonight there is no doubt that she’s going to be beating herself up for it for a while.

This urgency is part of what leads her to yank his shirt from his belt and get her hand on his warm sinewy skin, lightly defined and comfortingly familiar. A small growl escapes from Tyrone’s lips as he bites at her bottom lip and Tandy pulls him even closer, turning their heads so they were away from the light.

Their quarry chuckles and moves back the way he came, but they dare not stop kissing for a few minutes more. They could’ve cloaked, yet, but this particular creep had shown too much of a propensity to do experiments. They had enough bad experiences with scientist to just showcase their powers if they could avoid it. 

She can still feel her heart in her ears for a moment when Tandy pulls back, the soft hit of her earrings against the side of her neck a little tap of comfort. Tyrone helps put her leg down, but strokes it on the way, and dots one more kiss on her lips before pulling back. “C’mon, I think we’re close.” He assures in his deep voice, hand closing on hers, and Tandy’s heart hurts for a moment at how much she loves this boy. She thinks it’s the most dangerous thing she’s ever done.

* * *

They’re fighting.

It’s loud, and yelly, and not helped by the fact that it’s being held in a motel, one of Tandy’s least favorite places in the fucking world after her experiences in New Orleans with it. It also fit perfectly into the somewhat sketchy looking’s buildings vibe, and Tandy hates that for the two of them.

Her cheeks heat, as they often do when Tyrone is making her feel strong feelings (whether they be positive or negative), and her hands hurt at how they’re being squeezed in their fold. “Why aren’t you willing to trust me? Why the hell don’t you believe that I’m past that now? That I’d be fine?”

“Because, Tandy, sometimes, when I’m at my lowest, I have nightmares of you not being _fine._ I remember how you were when I first met you again, the way your moods changed and how defeated you were, and what would’ve happened to us if you hadn’t gotten sober. To _me_." Tyrone's in her space now, smoked righteous anger and fear lit in his eyes, and she can feel how right he thinks he is. How scared he really is for her, hidden under that emotion. "I've given up a lot to help others. I won't lose you too."

“But _I am sober,_ Ty. It’s been almost two years now and you know that, you’ve been there for all of it. It’s not that big a deal.” She insists, wishing that she had pants on more substantial than her pajama shorts. He’s wearing the exact same amount as her, but being near Tyrone Johnson never failed to make Tandy feel like he could see right through her, no matter how much clothing she was wearing.

“You are a big deal, Tandy! You, not being in a position to be taken advantage of, is a big deal. I’ll be more able to resist her persuasion than you.”

Tandy can’t lie. It hurts, that he doesn’t believe in her ability to stay sober. That he doesn’t think that her going in with him to confront the mind control pharmacist slash murderer isn’t a good idea. Hasn’t he realized by now that they will always be worlds stronger together than they are apart? And she can take care of herself. Always have, always will.

“Look, T, really,” Tyrone takes her hands in his, resisting her efforts to tug out of them, pulling her closer to him. When he presses her unwillingly curled hands to his chest, the chain around his naked chest is an warm as the rest of him, dark eyes pleading. “It’s not about not trusting you. It’s not trusting him. Nothing we’ve learned has shown me that he’s picky in victims and I’m worried about what could happen if that chance to choose is taken from you.” She allows it when he presses her hands to his lips, soft and apologetic, but tugs free afterwards, still frowning.

“If I don’t come with you, there’s going to be no one able to go into each others heads and fight that asshole with all we’ve got. I need you and you need me. We do this together.”

Their stubbornness shines in their matched stares, but eventually, Tyrone backs down. As concerned as he is for her, he does trust her. And she’ll be less likely to get into trouble with him than without him. Though, to be fair, she tended to get them in that kind of trouble anyway.

* * *

One of the people they’d saved from getting crushed by a crumbling building offers them a place to stay, and never let it be said that living the life doesn’t often depend on trusting some people to be good.

The house smells good, and the dog doesn’t seem traumatized, so they bring in what little stuff they travel with into the pool house. Tandy makes a remark about saving rich people more often because Tyrone admonishes her, but they both know it’s nice to use a real bathroom, willingly given to be used. To relax and not worry about being caught in a room that was supposed to be unoccupied, or found by homeless or plain villainous persons who’d catch them in a moment of vulnerability.

Tandy tries her best to keep her hair short and easy to take care of, but right now it’s growing a little longer than she usually likes. It ripples through her hair in a mini, shiny blonde waterfall after she finishes blow drying her hair, taking full advantage of what they had available, and Tyrone can’t help but watch. Can’t help but track the length of full, tan legs as they stretch out from one of the many shirts Tandy had stolen from him to wear, the inky black uncharacteristic and yet made him feel some kind of way, seeing her in his color. His shadows tug on a blonde curl when she passes by him and she giggles, melting his heart. 

She murmurs that the sheets smell like bougieville when they settle in together, Tandy’s cheek on his chest, but the last words kind of stumble from her mouth. Tyrone squeezes her tight, arm around her shoulders, and Tandy writes three words into the skin of his chest, eyes squinting open just for a moment. Lifting herself up on her elbow, Tandy kisses Tyrone’s brow, cheek, nose, and mouth. “Goodnight, Ty.”

“Goodnight, Tandy.”

The last thing he registers before falling asleep is the familiar, feminine scent of lavender sending him to sleep.


End file.
